The Family
by Hodor'sHeart
Summary: Australian Constable Abigail Clearwater is sent to assist with the extraction of Joseph Seed, as an expert in gangland activity. Unbeknownst to her, she has been chosen for a greater role. (JohnXOC)
1. Begin

Sometimes, but not all the time, it was moments like these that Abigail felt happy to have not lived in the shadow of the church. She was not born into religion or had any time to think upon what it meant to be alive. Granted, from the briefing, this group was ticking all of the boxes under cult. The smuggled tapes reminded her of the spectrum of gangs that Abby had experienced in her line of work back in the Ganglands unit in Melbourne. She learned from her senior sergeant of how thing were back in the eighties. How they were considered the head honchos of the police force for facing the underbelly; all awhile homicide did the cleanup work. Of how dirty thing was and that no rules were sacred. Things had changed of course and thus, so have the people involved.

There wasn't a lot to go on for preparations before they entered Eden's Gate. The Montana team's information packet was barely the size of a novella and the way it jumped, its almost skewed bullet points proved to her that they were walking right into a hell of a night. She hoped differently but without proper planning and knowledge, problems could arise and spurn out of control quickly.

Next to her in the chopper sat her contacts within the Montana unit, and to be honest, the only people she felt comfortable being with on this mission. By all means, they weren't the most compatible of groups. Heck, Abigail had seen snitches and police work more pleasantly. It only felt natural that there were some unbridled feelings between everyone.

Hard hitting Cameron Burke sat across from her, with all his attention involved in discussing whether or not it was a smart idea to get themselves involved in the situation in the first place. It was a stupid argument and everyone in the chopper knew it would happen, and that it would only cause more tension for the actual mission. Abigail was brought onto the case on behalf of Senior Sergeant Mike Stewart, who was Abigail's mentor in the Gangland unit. He was a key player in the downfall of the Santiniketan Park Association and taught Abigail everything she knew. He was a tough, no-nonsense bloke. Unfortunately, his health had taken a tumble, three months out from retirement. This was meant to be his last hoorah.

"We're here already." Abigail injected, trying to calm down the duo. "There's no point in arguing whether we should turn back or not."

Sheriff Whitehorse shook his head. "You haven't dealt with them Clearwater. Joseph Seed...he's not a man to be fucked with. We've had run-ins with 'im before and things haven't gone our way. Sometimes it's just to leave things as they are."

 _And look at where you are now,_ Abby thought, as Burke interjected again.

She had seen the marble statue that was raised from the ground. It stood in awe in front of her and she wondered how on earth were they able to build it. It amazed her how out of control things had gone already. It made her nervous, and nerves weren't good. They were all scared.

First signs of the compound appeared out of the mist as they turned to land, bonfires lighting the area. The Sheriff signaled their last chance, which was shot down soon enough. All in all, there were five people assigned for the extraction. Clearly, such a low number indicated the lack of willingness to seize control by the law enforcement. Not that they were unwilling entirely, but it was an out of sight out of mind treatment.

At first touchdown, the rules were given out like Christmas presents. Plentiful and wrapped in a yellow tape touch. Let me do the talking, don't unholster your guns. Rules, they all knew should be followed. But just because they would doesn't mean the other side would play fair.

Abigail was the first to step out of the chopper and then, Burke. Compared to him, she was slightly shorter and less muscular. Her hair was tied up and hooked through her _AUS CST_ cap. The general bulletproof vests were given out to the marshals but due to her insistence at the kick off meetings, so did the county's men. It was far from safe and sound but it would add a layer of softening.

She followed behind Whitehorse, Burke and a shotgun-toting Hudson towards the chapel entrance. Abigail felt the shivers down her back as she glanced over the puddles of peggies. They looked trigger-happy and with hungry eyes, she wouldn't put it past any one of them to attempt stopping them. Extraction missions needed patience and level-headedness.

The entrance of the compound felt like a kennel. Dogs barked at a single move made with wired fences all around the vicinity. The church seemed the only slice of color around.

"We're going in quietly and calmly."The Sheriff reiterated. "You got it?"

" _Fine._ " Retorted Burke. She got the feeling he wanted to be here a lot less than the rest of them.

Whitehorse nodded. "Hudson, you're on the door. I don't want anybody to get in."

Abby stepped forward. "I'll do the physical extraction. He won't be able to make a run for it if I'm on his tail."

"You sure?" Whitehorse asked.

"Dead certain."

She squinted her eyes when Burke tried to appease Whitehorse - in his own _sarcastic_ way - by saying he'll be in the paper. It was clear to her that they would need lady luck's time tonight. And as the doors opened, the hymns drew quieter: all eyes in their direction.

At first, she saw not a face but a voice. The light from the windows created shadows wrapped around Joseph Seed's face, cloaking his intent. You could feel it in the air, his presence. He turned to face the newcomers.

"I hear reckoning." Joseph told the churchgoers, who stared at them. Stared at her with fear and malice. Things that were volatile in a closed environment. His voice echoed against the wooden walls. "But we prepared for this. They will come. They will try and take from us our guns, take our freedom, take our faith. We will not _let_ them."

The crowd started to stand up. Burke and Whitehorse both felt that the time for action was within the next few moments. But as the crowd begun to stand up around them, and the voice of Joseph getting louder, it became apparent that they would have to be so dearly careful.

"Joseph Seed." Burke held up the warrant. "I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm. Now, I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see 'em."

A line formed between the two groups.

"Here they are." Joseph, without a qualm, held his hands up in the air, gently. He almost seemed too calm to Abigail. "Locusts in our garden. See, they've come for me. They've come to take me away from you. They've come to destroy all that we've built."

At the urging of Joseph, the crowd was becoming belligerent, reaching for the men's' guns and Whitehorse ordered them to stand down. The last thing Abby wanted was for shots to be fired as that would ignite the situation even further. She watched Whitehouse and then at Joseph, who parted the sea of people.

"We knew this moment would come."

Over Joseph's shoulder, Abigail watched as three people shifted to stand behind him. She recognized them from the briefing photos. John Seed's eyes were locked on hers. It was a feeling of disgust but also, she felt Joseph's control. It was crazy how it worked, How his words weaved the cradle he kept to soothe those who listened; to the extent that it had. It was her to break the stare off first, as Burke gave her the all-clear for the arrest.

He told them " _God will not let them take me"_ as his followers left, at the least, unwillingly. They would not go down without a fight, she knew. Not when their prophet has assured them with the utmost confidence that _they would not take him._

"We're going to do this slow and calmly Joseph," She said, taking his right hand and cuffing it. "I doubt we both want a fight."

Over the sounds of clicks tightening, Abigail listened as Joseph chuckled. "We both know it is you who are the aggressors."

" _That's harsh,"_ Abigail muttered, cuffing the other hand together and proceeding to read Joseph his rights. Everything had to be done or problems would arise later down the line, in court. She knew of John's background and no doubt if it were made to court, loopholes would be scrutinized. She turned to face his back and placed a hand on his shoulder for guidance. "Alright, let's hit the road. We have a seat with your name on it Joseph, it's probably missing you right now."

"Let's go" Said Whitehorse, and thus, they opened the double doors.

Abigail paused, hearing movement behind her. As she looked over her shoulder, she saw Faith Seed stop John in his path. The situation outside was becoming heated, and the sound of trucks and voices were becoming louder with each passing moment. She kept Joseph at an arm's length and stared straight back at John, hoping quietly that she might come off as intimidating enough not to be messed with.

"I recommend you stay here if you don't want to be caught up in the hostilities outside or arrested for interference." Abby turned and started walking to where Burke was ushering them. "It's safer."

Outside was chaos and outside was where things changed.

* * *

 _Three Days Later_

 _Location: Joseph's Ranch, 4 AM_

It had been cold the night before, cold from the gales of wind coming off of the lake. You could see the other side and the fishes that swam underneath. For now, the Seed family kept warm in their houses, one in each region to act as a hub. John finished filling the bowl with warm water and headed back upstairs to Joseph's room.

The helicopter crash had been a small victory, a small prayer answered in the dreams of John. They had captured most of the hostile party, save for a few who had run of into the woods in the hopes of escaping.

He loved his brother and would not wish harm to come upon him. Unfortunately, the crash had damaged a part of his foot and lower calf, and had become infected. This had caused a fever, in which it had fallen upon John to care for his elder brother.

Joseph was awake when John entered. He lay on the bed, the majority of his body covered in the light bedsheet, spare the injured leg, which was propped up on a pillow. He watched as John gently closed the door, placing the bowl on the bedside table and sitting on the other side of the bed. The wound needed to be cleaned and redressed. The doctor had assured him that the fever and infection will pass, that it just needed to be looked after carefully.

After unwinding the soiled bandages, Joseph spoke up.

"What is wrong, John?" Joseph quietly smiled. "Your mind seems to be wandering today."

John sighed, and placed the used bandages into a plastic bag. There was no use in avoiding it; he just had to say it.

"I cannot forget that night" He admitted, staring out the window and into the dark. "My mind keeps replaying _her_. Her warning keeps ringing every time I wake up and I'm left with an emptiness." He sighs out, rubbing his eyes."I think my sins are starting to reach out for me, again."

"So you saw it too."

Joseph slowly sat up and reached for John's hands, to which he cupped in his own.

"That woman has a fire within her that will be your salvation John. I've seen it. Her words haunt because they protect" He smiled. "I had a message from God a month ago. God told of you taking a wife, one with a calmness that cools your raging fire. Make no mistake John, she was sent here for you. She just doesn't know it yet."

And in that moment, in the eyes of his brother, John saw hope. He closed his eyes and prayed.

God was good.


	2. Alive

_No one is coming to save you._

What Abigail woke to was a crazy coote with herself zip tied to a table. Maybe crazy wasn't the right word, but Dutch oozed with intent. He meant what he said, and when stated if Abby can un-fuck a situation, it was an unclear _we'll see._

The bunker was heated and thankfully, they were the only ones around. She had spent a couple of days in Dutch's watering hole, trying to get herself accustomed to the type of landscape and reading up on the situation; whatever she could grab her hands on. What happened on the extraction night was a blur and for the benefit of her sanity, nothing was well remembered. Dutch said she had a contusion and blamed her for not bracing for impact. She then proceeded to tell him that he should _brace himself for impact_ when she shoves that microphone up his ass.

Regardless of their demeanours towards each other, they kept in touch via the walkie-talkiess. The banter made Abby feel more grounded and after when she explored Dutch's island alone, she pondered on what Mike would have done in this situation. He could have died. He could have been taken.

The optimistic side of her believed that no, that wasn't him. He would have played the game till he won. By playing the game, you have to make your opponents combust unto themselves. Mind games and whatnot. Abby thought that if she had to, she would try not to give up. But the pain has a limit. She knew it all too well.

Shrugging on the forest green overcoat that had been left in one of Dutch's lockers - apparently his daughter's - she met him in the comms room. For the situation at hand, it was a blessed set-up. There were cameras all over the island and direct contact with the old coote himself. It had taken them a couple of days to clean the island up, combined efforts of course, but nonetheless, it was a safer hiding hole without the interference of others. Last thing on the check off the list was the radio tower. It meant that finally, she could travel inland without losing contact with Dutch, and it also meant he could gather more info frequently.

Getting up there was a task in itself. Heights weren't a problem until you looked down, and Abby made sure she climbed back down - _slowly_ \- and not take the zipline down. One leap of faith and you could fall to your death. No thank you.

And finally, Dutch confirmed that he was receiving a damn strong signal and ordered for her to head back to pick up supplies. It was almost three in the afternoon when she got back to the bunker and Dutch furiously tapped on the screen of one of her monitors, turning the volume up. She hadn't seen any broadcasts since waking up and its arrival meant that the Seeds were on the move again. Concern was thought upon Whitehouse and Hudson. She didn't know what happened with the others - the image in her head was cloudy, but she knew they had been taken. All of them. She had no idea where - the map she had been given was of old landmarks. Ones that even Dutch didn't know if they still stood.

She hadn't read anything about John Seed being a marketing manager, nor an actual actor for these "advertisements". Though it was noted that he was the lawyer of the family, so it explained the theatrics of it all. Her heart broke to see the tear stained, duck-taped face of Hudson being held hostage, with a threat on the lips of John that _we'll come for you._ It made her gut squirm but she quenched those feelings, telling Dutch to make a copy of this one and any others that come in. His face kept lingering on the screen till it faded to black.

In all honesty, each one of them concerned her. Faith, the least, but that was more relying on the fact that she didn't have a lot of information readily available to make a decision. She heard rumours but nothing concrete. From what was told from the report, plus Dutch's accounts was that Jacob suffered from severe post traumatic stress disorder but instead of letting himself dive into depression, he gained a nihilistic treatment towards others. Physically, he outmatched her and she had no wanting to go out there and shoot anyone. They manipulated to their heart's content; the best way to deal with them would be to ignore them outright. Not that simple, given the situation, but keeping out of sights was a good place to start.

The old man had stopped for a beer break. It was hard to come across viable food, let alone alcohol, but somehow he found a way for his vice. "They're gonna come for you soon sugar, so you better cowboy up and see who needs help out there."

Abigail nodded. "I was able to catch some of the further signals while eavesdropping on the scanner. Seems they're starting to reap some of the properties in John's region more heavily."

Dutch sat down at his desk, and she could see the bags under his eyes. The man hadn't slept since they got in. The excitement was empowering.

* * *

Today had been a beautiful day. John hated the water but not even memories past could soil today's memories. Every Sunday, the serman would be in full swing, with Joseph at the reigns. Faith liked listening in on them, but he'd rather be out in the open air. The creeks were quiet, until the joined into the river in which they stood in today. He watched over all of the blessings and baptisms, and made sure all travelled on the right path.

Today, he had seen hope in Hope county, as ironic as life had been for him. News of the liberation of Faulkner's Island had been interesting news; the Deputy, or whatever the Hudson bitch had called her had been getting braver. The woman never said her name and he suspected it was out of fear for her. He couldn't blame her, she didn't see what he saw.

Jacob was waiting for his to finish his duties, behind him, the scrawniest deputy he'd seen since leaving Atlanta. It seemed that whatever he had planned to do today had been cancelled. John considered his previous council about security, not that he particularly cared for it. He knew Jacob didn't believe all that much in Joseph, or of anybody; but that was who he was. Trust was a thing you give sparingly, in his experience. And Jacob rarely dealt it out himself. John wasn't sure if he even was trustful of Joseph.

John himself believed the hymns he sang, to a point. He loved as well he could. Joseph told him that sometimes his passion showed to others as anger and that he needed to have perspective. Change was frustrating.

"Are you done yet?" Jacob said, hoping off of the boulder. The scrawn named Peaches scuttled after him.

"You saw the broadcast, right? I think it went down good."

"Good?" Jacob scratched his beard, and gave one of his rare smiles. It was small and you would probably miss in in a heartbeat; but it was there. "Sure it did. Until you decided to interject yourself into the narrative."

Peaches could see what they were both getting at. He rubbed his bruised arm, and listened as they talked over plans from Joseph. He had heard the whispers of Abigail and Cameron making it out alive by the skin of their necks. Quietly to himself, he reckons that John, the shorter of the two is definitely referencing his Australian colleague. He hoped she was ok.

"Oi Peaches."

He flinched under his gaze. He couldn't bare to look into his eyes but he had to, to avoid punishment. The man was a beast and scarred from head to toe, making him the source of Peaches current nightmares.

Crossing his arms, Jacob nodded at him. He asked, "What'ser name, the foreigner?"

"Don't know much." Peaches admitted. "I didn't meet 'er 'till we flew in."

Jacob cocked his head, while John had his arms crossed. He watched on hungrily with intent, his lower lip slightly ajar to greet his words. "Wrong answer."

In one foul swoop, Peaches legs were kicked out from underneath him and he thumped to the ground, his head hitting a nearby rock. He clutched at the pain and shuddered, saliva dripping out of his mouth.

John bent down, so that he was eye level. This was Jacob's squire, so he couldn't break him. (After all, that position was already filled.) What a pity.

"You really must tell me about her, _peaches._ " He smiled to himself, the image of her looking at him flashing again. "I'm need to set up a get-together party on behalf of the Father for Easter this year, and I need to know what _name_ to put on the invitation."

"Fuck you!" Pratt shouted, finding a roar in his gut. He spat on John's shirt and curled into a ball from the look that Jacob shot at him.

John sighed with disgust, looked at Jacob, and with a hang picking up Pratt by the collar, he said, "Well that's too bad. But you misheard me when I said you _really must_ _tell me_ , 'cause you don't have much of a fucking choice."

* * *

First impressions were everything, so when Abigail punched Nick Rye in the gut for sneaking up on her after the fight at the aviation yard, she apologised immediately after.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" Abby, looking around to make sure there weren't any more peggies hiding about, slung her gun back into its' case and helped the poor man up. He had a dog with him - Boomer, if she remembered correctly over the sounds of peggies, she would come to find that the ranch he had come from had been raided, and subsequently, his beloved family had been slaughtered in the name of the Father. Boomer was lucky that Nick came across him wandering, instead of a random peggie in the middle of the road. He was cute and he didn't spout nonsense.

He swore as well and graciously accepted the help. He fixed his hat and picked up his rifle, though while doing so, Abby caught the feeling of panic flowing off of him.

"They took my god damn plane! That was our only way out of this shithole!" He waved at the sky and swore again. He asked for her help in tracking it down.

Abigail looked towards the house and nodded in that direction. She needed to sit for a while and rest before heading back.

"Let's go inside first. You should probably check on your wife and if I'm going to get in there, I'll need to plan."

And by the way that the house looked before and after the skirmish, Nick would be needing to replace a couple of windows and wood panels when this whole thing blew over. Bullet holes and blood stains all over the deck, but the ceramic frog at the front door really made it a nice touch; in Abigail's opinion. Very homely.

In many ways Kim reminder Abigail of her own mother, or at the least, what she could remember of her own mother. She looked to be heavily set in her pregnancy, probably itching and - if she could - trying to research any methods out there on the internet to get the little tyke out of her. That is, if there was any. She found it absolutely adorable that despite knowingly having a girl, going for ultrasounds and check up appointments, they were _still_ having a bouncing baby boy. She backed off when they started to argue over safety and the baby's gender, finding comfort in the worn down couch and Boomer's head on her lap.

"Welcome back everyone, to a special announcement! This concerns my fair lady."

Her gut dropped when she saw the face of John Seed on the working television. Beside him were the trio of siblings. Faith looked pleased, as well as Joseph in his cowboy tuxedo. Jacob sat back in his chair, nodding along to the sermon.

"Abigail Clearwater!"

John yelled, shouting up on the podium. He had gathered the nearest congregate of followers outside, in what seemed to be near the Eden's Gate compound. Both Kim and Nick paid attention to the newest broadcast which, surprisingly was directed to _her._ She groaned. Of course, with her starting to make her way up and out of here would be difficult but the last thing she wanted was a target on her back. Hold up, how the hell did he know her name and get a picture of her? "God has chosen you for a great purpose. Love is not something that is easy to uphold but with my faith and the wisdom of my Lord's message, he has chosen you to become a part of this family and to be at my side. We are all revelling in the news of your fate. Me, Faith, Father and hell, even your friends!"

The bruised and battered forms of her colleagues lined up in front of the stage for all to witness. They looked like they had been ravaged and broken. There was no remorse, and everyone in the crowd and onstage cheered. The stunned trio watched on as the group was marched away.

"We will join in the light of Father and begin anew. And please, do not worry about finding a ride. Our friends will find you in time."

Abigail gulped and went to turn off the screen. Nick took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair, processing the moment. "Damn, well shit Abby, he's marked you well."

Seeing everyone hurt like that made her determined to steer clear of the group, to find a way to help them. But she couldn't do both. Whitehouse's warning that some things should be best left alone resonated in her thoughts, and she turned to face the couple; determined.

She licked her lips."Let's get your plane back Nick. You got a radio I can borrow?"

* * *

 _Hey everyone!_

 _Haven't spoken in a while nor written in a hell of a long time. If I need to address something, I'll write it at the bottom. Thanks for all of your support so far. I love hearing your opinions and it makes me feel great._

 _I'll see you later._

 _HH._

 _Note: Dutch's Island doesn't really have a name, nor do I think it's actually owned by him, so I am naming it Faulkner until there is confirmation_


	3. Align

There were times when John often felt lonely in his own skin, despite being surrounded by the family that he knows in his heart loves him. He was brash with his temper and he knew that. It made it hard to form bonds with people when all you felt like doing was yelling, letting out whatever pains were inside like a boiling faucet. And at times, he was judgemental of others' decisions. Always the first to doubt but never the first to let down his walls. Before coming back to Hope county, he spent many years from the time that he had been adopted out to the time he spent working late nights in the office, alone with his thoughts. It wasn't good for him to stew the raw feelings over; it left disgust and left a distaste in his mouth.

He hadn't been as happy as he was when he first was called by Joseph. He remembered where he was, what he was doing and every word that they shared in that initial conversation. It was coy and out of the blue. Feelings that he had buried years past surfaced when he beckoned Joseph's invite back home. It wasn't the same place that had burnt down - Lord knows he would never go back to that place if he was given the chance - but slowly after a year or so, it felt homely.

Confidence was what people needed when believing in something. They needed confidence within themselves to know that if you fall, you will have your faith to fall on. John had been a sinner for years and had turned his back on his faith when he didn't understand and couldn't find comfort in anything anymore. Many nights he had spent crying to himself from overwhelming thoughts. When he had arrived to his new home, Joseph helped mend him and guided his health onto a brighter path. No longer did he mellow in thoughts of the past, he looked towards the future and beyond with his family to guide him.

He found God.

But they weren't always around to help guide him like God did. He always needed the physical support of someone. This ranch was a massive, proud entity that loomed in its presence. It was an awful lot of space for one person to occupy and on the inside, he found everything to be too big for just himself.

John leaned on the second-floor balcony and stared into the mezzanine, the area in which his living suite sat, unused. He could feel his mind drift away with daydreams of happy laughter and small feet echoing up to the roof cavity. It left a lump as he swallowed, his mind and attention on the woman he had only had a passing glance with.

 _Abigail._

As her name passed his lips, Harrison called his name and waving for him to come down. The sect members were forbidden from entering the inside of this area unless somebody was contacting them, or in the case of an emergency. With the way things had been panning out, he thought that maybe Faith or Joseph, or ever Jacob had been injured. He would be angry and he knew he would have to make a trip to the basement to blow off some steam onto that punching bag.

"What is it, brother?" He asked, a hand gliding down the rail as he descended. Harrison was one of the unarmed but his main priorities were to monitor the compound and handle all incoming contact with the other compounds.

"I was listening in on all of the public signals and managed to intercept a message from the Abigail you're looking for."

It was like a dark room suddenly alive with the click of a switch. His mood was heightened and he wore a smile of achievement. "That's wonderful! Shall we have a listen?"

He longed to hear the music of her voice. It was different and he could listen to her chirp all the way home.

" _Hey, it's me, Abby. Look, I know you said you didn't want me to meet up near your liver shack, but I've just seen that tape that John put out and I need to talk it over. I don't know whether I should give myself in for the sake of Hudson and everyone else but I'm scared. Can I meet you there in half an hour?"_

The message was short and simple. He liked the shaking in her voice and he closed his eyes, shivering. His name with her accent was heavenly to listen to. Harrison turned the off button and rose out of his chair. "I picked it up at the most five minutes ago. I was able to track down the point of receivership to an abandoned lot out on the area where Birkdale river forks out into the forest."

John nodded. "If we were to head out now, we should be able to intercept this meetup in twenty minutes."

Plans were made and John hurried his way back upstairs, and into his master bedroom to grab his jacket since it was already a cold night. He looked up at himself in the full-length mirror that stood by his tallboys and smiled. He could see it now; her standing behind him, wearing a proud smile. Joseph from the get-go though she was a kind soul and Faith would finally have someone to talk girl stuff with. Jacob would respect them and John wouldn't go out anymore worrying about what anybody thought of him. Because knowing he could put his faith into this woman, he wouldn't be so afraid anymore.

He would have faith and he would be happy.

* * *

This was fucking nuts. And, looking back at the day's preparations, probably not the best idea Abigail had ever had. But given the situation, she was trying to be tactical about it. It had taken her a while to get everything together: not all of it was easily found and she had to leave an I.O.U at Dutch's for raiding his emergency equipment. She doubted or rather _hoped_ that there was no emergency at all. Then she would be so much in the shits as she already was.

It was 10:40 pm. By now, her message should've been received. She didn't want to risk the lives of Nick and Kim and their unborn child over this beloved plane, so Abby took the initiative to reroute messages from her own radio via Dutch's system and send them onto an empty receiver, knowing that they would be tracking all of the public forums. Which, keep in mind, was difficult to keep under wraps. A normal radio signal would be easy-peasy to trace and track so the duo resorted to using a military grade version. That way, Dutch's position back on the island wouldn't be compromised either.

And like clock-work, through a pair of binoculars, Abby witnessed an entire convoy of utes leave the property's only exit. She couldn't identify who was driving, but she would bet money on John being inside one of them. She was hidden under the cowl of nightfall, in amongst the wildflowers that surrounded the property. With them gone, Abby directed her attention towards the ranch. It was in all honesty, really pretty if you ignored all the propaganda and some gun toting peggies patrolling outside the compound. Moving away from the front of the house, Abby shuffled, stick crouched, to the back of the barn. The back roller doors looked big enough to house a plane, so she figured it had to be there. And, from what she could see, nobody was guarding the door either.

She abandoned her hiding spot and dashed as quietly as she could, right into the corner next to the door and let out a huge breath. Nobody had heard her. Great. The area where she stood was poorly lit and Abby suspected that most of the power was re-routed to the main house, where the residents would stay.

"Are you fucking kidding me…"

It was barely a whisper as she looked at the pin pad, and then, through the window in the door. In the top left corner of the door, she could just make out the red light that you would see on a security camera. The pin pad itself was the saddest looking thing she'd seen in a while, with the coinciding numbers worn down. She pondered what was going through John's head - as a graduate - to have the line of thinking to install video cameras, but not upgrade the door locks. Every time she got closer, this man was a whole conundrum of what the hell. It also meant that there was a possibility that she had already been captured on video already, in which that meant that her amount of time would be shortened greatly if it were a monitored camera system. She didn't know if it was or wasn't and decided to act quickly for the sake of her safety.

Placing her backpack on the ground, Abby grabbed the cold texture of the gas mask and fastened it on. The crowbar that had been tied to her back was now off, smashing and gutting the window of its sharp remains. Time was wasting away and there were still people around; there was no way in hell she wanted to get caught now. Out of the bag, Abby shook several canisters and chucked them high and low into the hanger and after being sure the room was gassed efficiently, she climbed through the window and held her hands out as her sight.

It took less than 2 minutes to determine where the plane was and then to find the control panel to the roller doors, after initially tripping over someone and bumping into crates. She struggled with the controls but eventually, the gears started to turn alongside the shouting from outside.

 _Shit_ , she thought, hightailing it to the plane's door and hoping in. Abby knew that starting the engine would create more of a disturbance but she didn't see any other method of getting the plane to Nick. Abigail ignited the roaring beast and floored it.

Flaring out from the billowing cloud of knockout gas, Abigail and the little yellow air submarine took to the sky and barely missed the treeline. She hadn't noticed that a peggie had clung onto the plane until they _actually opened the door mid flight._

"Fuck!" Abby screeched, kicking the man several times, knocking him off and into the night. "Fuck off!"

She had images of the chopper and the sounds of bodies willingly throwing themselves into the propeller blades and crashing. The sound of being stabbed or sliced is something you can't imagine unless you hear it for yourself.

Abby steadied herself on the control column, set the radio frequency to Kim's receiver and phoned home. She could hear Nick hollering happiness as Kim thanked her, her voice tearing up. Abby imagined Nick jumping up and down in the lounge, Boomer bouncing on his hind legs, tongue slobbering.

Nick jumped on the line. "You did it! You really did it! Shit, I thought you might die!"

"My nerves are having a hell of a time Nick." Abby unfastened her mask and let it fall to the floor of the cockpit. The gas that had been inside the seaplane had disappeared when the door had been opened.

"Can you do a set of checks? I don't know if any of those peggies have messed with my girl."

Abby looked down, expecting to see bonfires and utes, but surprisingly the world was quiet tonight. It didn't bode well in Abby's head, so she declined.

"I'm not comfortable doing it in the dark Nick. Can I put her down and then we check her out?"

'Sure," He agreed and Kim yelled out, telling him to slow down.

She chuckled and sat back down at the receiver, watching Nick run around the house. Kim knew in her heart that he wanted to leave in order to keep her safe, but this was their home. Her mother taught her that home was where the people you loved were. She thought that today, at the cost that Abby had gone through for them, she was one of her loved ones.

Kim sniffed, fixing the blanket on her lap. "Tell me, how d'you know how to fly?"

It took some moments before Abigail replied. She sounded tired and Kim told Nick to set up the spare bed upstairs for when she got back.

"On the nights when Daddy went off to the pokies or when he was sleeping, I would sneak into the lounge to watch whatever was on the tele. Usually, at the time of night, all of the air crash investigation shows were playing." There was a pause. "I just picked up things when I could."

Kim could see the seaplane's lights from her window and the hollering from Nick made her smile widen.

* * *

He had been waiting in the shadow of the treeline for almost half an hour before deciding to send someone in there to check the place out, knowing in his gut that they had been had. John's temper was bubbling away in his chest and after receiving a call from Harrison that " _unfortunately, someone has broken into the compound and stolen your plane!"_ he punched the nearest person, yelling out obscenities.

John had been tricked by her and now, he had lost the ability to fly. It had been a growing hobby of his, an outlet to just calm down in. But now, his anger and worry consumed him. With shaking hands, he cupped his face and closed his eyes, breathing out. He looked up into the stars and thought: " _I'll find you."_

And his promises were as good as gold.

* * *

 _Hello again!_

 _Thank you as always for your continuing support. I love hearing your feedback and what you guys think. Currently I am working part time alongside working in an internship position, so life can get busy at times. So, your feedback keeps me going._

 _Love, HH._


	4. Sail

Abigail preferred to work under the cover of the night instead of venturing out in the day, not sure what the date was anymore. As it turns out, breaking into a stronghold would inevitably upset people and upset people it did. From that night, it became harder to find edgeways in exploring areas and collecting information. She could hear the rumble of trucks on the roads and hollering, that left her uneasy. She had burrowed herself in the spare bedroom at Nick and Kim's, taking that time to recuperate and rethink things. Though she never wanted to listen to their tv set, she could hear the continuous radio calls from John himself. She knew she was in deep now. At first, she wanted to get out and take everyone with her, safely. At this point, she didn't know whether that was possible anymore to avoid anyone without being caught.

Abby jumped at the sound of footsteps up the stairs. She settled down rather quickly, realising that they were slow and heavy, meaning that that was Kim travelling up them. Kim knocked on the bedroom door and let herself in, closing the door behind. It had just turned five in the afternoon. From the way she stood, Kim was ready to have the baby within the week, for sure.

"How are you holding up?" She asked, sitting down on the bed next to Abby. "You missed lunch."

"Sorry," Abby said, nudging her in the shoulder. If it had been another life, Abby thought that Kim would have made a good friend. She could even be happy in that fantasy to live in the rural planes of Montana and not mind it one bit. But they stuck together as it was a necessity in these dark times. Abby didn't eat the way she used to anymore. Food had to be rationed and her muscles burned coming back from scouting trips.

"How's the baby?" Abby smiled, avoiding the question. They had enough to worry about without adding her well being into it.

"She's bloody late!" Kim yelled, tapping on her swollen tummy. "Hey you, get your ass out here so you can learn to fly from your Daddy!"

Abby smiled softly," He's gonna be a good Daddy, Kim. You're lucky you have each other in this hellhole."

"You have anyone back home?"

The woman closed her heavy eyes, feeling the sun's rays depleting. It melted across the floor through the open window. Sleep had kept its' distance today and Abby's mind was still worried about the past week's events. She found herself yearning for her music collection on the phone that was left in the hotel they put her up at when she first accepted the assignment.

"No, it's just me. It's hard to keep a relationship up when you have a career like mine." She jumped up to her feet, feeling uncomfortable. "I like to think that most men feel intimidated enough to bounce on the first date."

They conversed for a while about the smallest of pleasures and it was a moment in time she cherished. It was little and blooming sweetly.

"HEY ABBY!"

From downstairs, Nick shouted out to her and in a flash, she grabbed the same green coat she had nicked from Dutch and clobbered down the stairs, thinking the worst of the situation.

It wasn't anything like she had thought but Nick seemed concerned enough to look worried. He sat by his radio that sat inside the house, just opposite the kitchen bar. His face was undressed from the usual hat and sunglasses so he couldn't hide anything from her, not that he could anyway. Her intuition usually was right on target if someone was trying to pull wool over her eyes. She asked what was bothering him. It was obvious that he was anxious; the radio was still going off in the background. The sounds of yelling and pleads for help were currently being unanswered.

"A good friend of the community in Fall's End is having to defend the town from a wave of them damn peggies. Jerome's his name, he's the pastor of the church. He's been having trouble lately, with more of the folks out that way being kidnapped. As you can hear," Nick slammed his palm on the table, making the radio set jump into the air, and land back on the table with a jangled thud. "He's in a right lot of shit. And I can't help 'im! I can't leave Kim!"

Abby stared at the radio, listening to the cries for help. It took her back to the days of being a dispatcher and at that moment, she knew she couldn't refuse. As much as she wanted to crawl into a ball under a hot shower faucet, she couldn't leave it be. That wasn't her.

And she couldn't avoid the use of a gun, now that she knew how rough the peggies would be.

"Let me use your rifle, Nick." Abigail was tying on her army grade boots, ones she wore here in the first place. They were comfortable and one thing less to worry over.

"Here!" He threw the rifle over the counter and Abby slugged it over her shoulder. She filled her backpack with whatever ammo she could carry and loaded the barrels just in case anything popped up unexpectedly.

"Be safe!" Kim said, giving her the warmest, awkwardly place hug Abby could want.

"You too." She whispered, digging her face into her shoulder before letting go. "I'll see you soon."

Nick nodded, tipping his beer bottle. "I'll keep you in my prayers, Abs."

* * *

She took the Jeep since it was the faster of the two cars in Nick's possession. At one point, Abigail had to remind herself that she was driving on the wrong side of the road. Not that anyone would care in this climate of chaos, she figured, changing the radio stations. To avoid being recognised, She had one of Nick's caps on, with her thick locks tied neatly underneath, as well as the hood of her coat up and over her head. The worn turtleneck sat just under her eyes. Boomer, for all his might, decided that he too would join in on the upcoming brawl and he sat in the front seat, head dangling out the window.

Fall's End had been a town on one of Dutch's maps that seemed to have stood there as a piece in time that never had anything going on; up until this whole cult thing started, anyway. Coming into the town, Abby drove over the bridge and ditched the Jeep inside the bushline. It's green base blended into its surroundings, so she wasn't worried that it would get pinched.

Rifles were a thing of Abby's childhood, so holding one wasn't what frightened her. She had to have on her a taser and in other cases a Glock while she worked, so it wouldn't seem out of the ordinary to be used to them. It was the fighting, the sound of bullets through flesh. The sound of shots fired didn't bother her as much as it used to.

She whistled for Boomer's attention. Like the good boy he was, he listened when she spoke and it was like he understood her to the nth degree.

"Boomer, go scope out the area, but keep out of sight. When I shoot them boy, you come help me. At the end of this, I'll find you the juiciest bone in Hope County."

He barked in agreement of their deal. He ran off down the road, while Abigail made her way under the cover of the trees and after three minutes of trekking, she came across the water tower. It branded the name _Hope County_ and around the edges of the rail, there were signs that provided some cover.

Everything was lining up. The folks below were being rounded up and it looked like there were hardly any townspeople left to call it a town. She disliked heights but kept her mind focused on what was happening below. She could briefly see the image of Boomer bounding around and the church doors were kicked open, a peggie with the greasiest beard forced out somebody who she assumed to be the pastor of the church, bound and beaten.

Abigail breathed in the air of calm around her, paused and lined up the rifle to her eye.

The first shot missed the peggie's head, instead of hitting the man's shoulder. The impact throwing him into the side of the parked ute, knocking him out. The other's quickly picked up on what was happening and started to flee like flies from the spray. Boomer took out the female peggie next to the hostages, tearing into their face like dinner on Sunday. She shot at the ones that ran towards the bar and then shot the barrels lying around the place. The barrels exploded into a thousand splinters of flames which latching onto several peggies who tried to stop, drop and roll.

 _The heck….?_

Abigail watched a peggie, who was shrouded in a green mist caught fire quicker than the others, screaming for Heaven's mercy. To her, he looked drugged out of his mind. His body collapsed, melting right next to the pastor, who tried to crawl away. Realising that he was a sitting duck, she retreated from her position upon the water tower and flew down the ladder, a shot grazing her shoulder as she reached the bottom. Abby sucked the pain in and swore.

Running for it, Abby hopped the fence and grabbed the switchblade from the front pocket of the bag. Boomer defended the pastor from a peggie with a bat the best he could but the poor boy was injured, his hind leg shot. Thankfully from what she could spot, he'd been shot only once. Roughly, she cut the binds from his back and spared him no words, leaving the knife next to him to go and defend Boomer.

And it was like she was eleven again. She was in the backyard, with the tin cans and bottles lining ever flat area in sight. With the rifle in her hand, she was ordered to shoot every single one. She imagined every one of those peggies to be a can or a bottle and shot at them til they exploded. She aimed high and low down the street, barely missing her shot.

Shells bounced off the ground, smoking until there was nobody left to move.

A hand reached her shoulder and she snapped out of her stupor. It was Jerome. He had a cut above his eyebrow but he looked like he was still up and running.

"I take it you are Nick's friend?" He asked and she nodded curtly, not removing a single layer of clothing that was covering her identity. He returned the blade to her, which she slipped into the side of her boot, sheathed.

"Forgive me, but it's still daylight and I can't risk getting recognised by one of those peggies." She glanced down at Boomer, who limped over to her and leaned on her leg. Slinging her rifle over her back, she scooped the good boy up and asked, "You got a place where we can patch him up?"

He smiled at Boomer and nodded towards the town's only functioning bar, _the Spread Eagle._ Looked like a dive but in her eyes, it was a comfort. They swapped no words on their way into the newly opened bar but he graciously opened the door for her and they both entered to find a woman carrying way too many boxes down the stairs. Abby would help, you know, if the poor pup wasn't injured. He came first.

She laid him down on the floor, where Jerome had placed a blanket by the roaring fireplace. In thanks, Boomer licked her hand and she thanked the man who gave her a bowl of dog grub to which he wolfed down.

"Who's this?"

Abby turned to see that the woman who was carrying the boxes was now done with that and was now staring at her, unsure of the situation. Abby looked at Jerome for guidance.

"It's okay." He nodded. "It's safe now. Mary, this is Nick's friend he called in."

"I'm Abby." She stated, ripping off the hood and pulling down her turtleneck. Mary, Jerome and even the kid in the kitchen, all of their eyebrows raised the moment took her hat off, her hair tumbling down. "I'm sure you can understand my unwillingness to disrobe outside."

"No shit, with those broadcasts going about. You've got one hell of a target on your back," Mary's smile was as sweet as pavlova and Abby found herself to be hungry. She made her way to the back of the counter and put a glass on the bar. They talked, and Jerome had thought that the peggies had taken all of it when they first raided the place. She shook her head. "Now, what kind of establishment would I be if I didn't have a secret stash tucked away? Now, Abby, what's your poison?"

Abby waved, shaking. It wouldn't be worth it to have a single sip again. "Nah mate, I don't drink."

"Are you sure you don't want to after that?" Mary said, stunned. "You looked like you were from the war!"

"I'm a Constable, miss."

"A _what?"_

Abigail thanked Mary as she filled the glass with some _coke_ instead. It was a bit flat, but it was sweet enough for her.

"Like a Sheriff. I was sent here for the Joseph Seed extraction but, as you can figure out, it didn't go well."

Mary nodded with confidence, putting away the glasses and bottles from her secret stash into the cupboard. Abigail took out her portable walkie talkie and phoned Nick, to which she received happy yelling and Kim saying _well done you!_

Nick took back the receiver. "I heard you took down a whole army Abs!"

"Something like that. How's things back home?"

"Kim says she's getting contractions. There isn't many so she's not fussed so far."

Abby slapped the counter. "Oh Nick, that's great!"

She could feel from his voice that he was smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm gonna finish up here and I'll be back with Boomer soon, but I don't know when." Abby sniffed.

"All good partner, I'll see you when you get in."

Abby placed the walkie-talkie back in her backpack and chugged down the glass of _coke_ with vigour. Jerome had been sitting next to her, involved in a world of his own. He was probably just shocked by the night's events and in all honesty, she couldn't blame him. It had been violent and that shocked a lot of people. Abigail reached behind the bar and grabbed a piece of paper and wrote numbers on it, handing it over to the preacher.

"Here," He took the paper, reading it thoroughly. "I've given something similar to Nick and Dutch as well. When the chopper crashed on the first night here, I remembered that Joseph was having sleeper agents in other parts of the county. It's dangerous to go searching for help when they've got their fingers everywhere, so here are the numbers for my supervisors and the coordinating superintendent back home. Call them if you get through. I can only imagine how angry they are about not hearing from me."

Jerome thanked her and pocketed the note. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, Nick's said that Kim is about to give birth so I think it's best if I get back to the house. They would want me to watch over it while they head to the midwife." She nodded to herself, smiling at the pastor. "I'll go get the Jeep that I came in and bring it around for Boomer. I'm sure Kim's got a hell of a medkit in that bathroom of hers, and if not I'm sure their hanger has some stuff I can use."

"Stay safe," Jerome said, seeing her to the door.

Abby smiled and waved as she left, the door jingling shut. Night had set in quickly and bodies were still lining the street, motionless. It was a stark difference in how quiet it was now compared to what it was when she got out here. She figured they would need help cleaning them up in the morning. If Kim and Nick were back by then, she'd come by and get stuck in.

From where the bar was situated, Abigail's route back to the Jeep was hanging a right on the road by the water tower and then to continue walking down the road till she hit the bridge, to which she would take a left into the forest.

The path right up until the water tower was well lit but from there, it was pitch back. She cursed the fact that she hadn't packed or found a torch. Abby looked back, thinking she could go back to the bar and get one. Or even stay for another round.

The night turned bright as Abby jumped out of the way of a screeching van, whose doors flung open the minute she hit the ground. Rough hands, quick hands grabbed at her as she screamed and hollered, threatening to kick their asses and to fuck off. They were all men and they chucked her down into the back of the van. They ripped her possessions away, as one peggie sat on her back and arms, another with a gun to her face. Once the doors were closed, the van squealed to life, taking off into the night.

" _Get off you cunts!"_ She yelled the loudest Abby has ever had to be in her life. She did not make it easy for them to contain her and at one point, they stopped the van. In one foul swoop, the peggie pistol-whipped her in the face and head until she was knocked out, bleeding slightly.

All three men remained quiet for the rest of the ride. They didn't want to risk the consequences when they returned back to the base.

* * *

 _Hey everyone,_

 _Hope today's been good to you. Here's a new chapter. Just needed to address one review by Charli. : Thanks! I'm not Australian but True Crime and Australian Crime is kinda my thing, so I hope I keep_ _your expectations._

 _I also recommend the Australian True Crime Podcast that you can find on Spotify or web browser by Meshel Laurie and Emily Webb. They have some bloody good interviews with police, to crooks to the families affected by crimes in Australia. I highly recommend it, if you have the stomach._

 _Cheers,_

 _HH_


	5. Hope

Joey Hudson woke to the darkness of John's bunker, to the sounds of shouting outside. Her room was dark with the only portion of light coming in from the hole in the door, but even that was optional. She had to be a good mouse or risk being locked up in complete darkness with raving lunatics. She didn't know how long it had been, or if the others had made it out alive at all.

They fed her scraps of food and dirty water. The cultists who hung around her door spent their time either playing cards, talking around or being ordered around by others. She heard yelling approach down from the hallway, stopping at the door.

"Move," Said a voice, and the door swung open, the light from behind covering the newcomer. But Joey didn't need a face to match to the voice. She knew it to be John Seed, her tormenter. He loved to show her off in his regular broadcasts and in those moments, she was too frightened to imagine what she would go through next. She didn't want to think about dying.

John strode over to her and picked her up by the elbow, dragging her outside of the room. Her hands and feet had been tied for the longest time. He ripped the duct-tape off and placed her in an office chair, strapping her tightly down. Hudson cried out in pain, those areas on her wrists and mouth now swollen and painful to move.

"It's going to be okay," John told her, holding up her chin. "The time for atonement is now."

Joey's gut dropped at the speed that John pushed her through the halls at. She tried to remember the direction, where the stairs were at, where the exit signs were. It had been days since she'd been out of the room and the neon lights seared the backs of the Deputy's eyelids.

"Here we are!" John said happily, wheeling into an open room to which her heart dropped. In a chair opposite the Deputy sat Constable Clearwater, her head bobbed down. Dark lines of burgundy blood bled down her cheek, where a sizeable bruise formed around an open wound. She was out of it, and looked like she had been living rough from the last time they'd seen each other.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

John bent down, his arm resting on hers. John turned, to look at the Constable, who was groaning as she awoke. Joey wanted to shrug the bastard's arm off viciously. The closeness between them was terrifying. She could see right up to the pores around his nose to the tiniest specks of blood on his face that he had missed while washing his face. "I brought you here to make Abigail feel more… at _home._ You see, she's smart. It has taken me _weeks_ to get to where we are today and we'll progress more today. I promise you, if everything goes well, I'll see to it that you have your baptism brought forward to the Father."

Abby's head burned, the sound of the gun hitting her head still ringing in her ears. The top layer of her eyes felt like they had been opened too long, as they were so dry. Her vision took some time to come into focus. Abby felt a shadow pass her her right shoulder and she jumped, not knowing who it was. Once her vision adjusted to the lights, the image of Deputy Hudson scared her.

She wasn't back at Nick's with Boomer, like she had imagined coming back into consciousness. Here, it was grimy. It was cold and dark and the shadows that moved on the walls made her paranoid. Abigail tried moving her arms but to no avail; they were strapped down tight.

Footsteps walked on the left of her and Abby was too scared to turn to look at who it was. She was staring at Hudson, who was sobbing softly to herself. Abigail had a fair idea who it was.

A tattooed arm placed a bowl of water on the surgical table and her nerves forced down in her jaw as she clenched, getting a glimpse of John's back. As he put down his toolbox, the sound of the tools clunking inside released the tension she held in. Mike's voice was as clear as if was in the room, and she envisioned him behind Hudson, over the sound of John's whistling.

Mike had an arm on her shoulder. His dark blue uniform stood out from the shadows on the walls. Abigail couldn't see his face since his hat covered it well.

 _Play the game, Clearwater._

"Welcome, Abigail."

A shiver raced down her back, tingling in her thighs. John had swivelled on his heel, turned now to face Abby. She eyed him with suspicion but did not move a muscle, save for her eyes blinking. He had a suave air to the way he carried himself, the way he chuckled. John's eyes hardly left her.

"I've got your attention now, haven't I?" Smiled John, gesturing the stapler at her. Over his shoulder, pieces of skin hung stapled to the tables backing. Her calm facade dropped to one of disgust as it mirrored her thoughts, then shaping back to what it had been before. " _That's all I've wanted."_ He whispered to himself before pushing himself up and off the table. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever repented, ever heard God's calling?"

She stayed silent, clenching her teeth. His lips formed into a hard line, unpleased at her lack of response. He wanted the fire, the passion he had seen in the CCTV tapes of her in Fall's End, the kindness he has witnessed on their first glance together. Right now, she was a stone vixen. John slammed the stapler hard onto the table, causing both women to jump in fright, setting Hudson off into another bout of sobs. Joseph had put this forth as John's test, a test of wills. Abigail in all of her troubles was foretold to be his, to shape her to his vision. He had to find a way to make her see the beauty of the project, of the life that bloomed here in Hope County.

He closed the gap between them, ignoring the Hudson woman's howls. His full attention was on Abigail.

"I first learned the power of yes when I was just a child." John tore open her turtleneck by slitting the neck and ripping the entire thing in half, in several goes. He soaked in her curves, the drop of her breasts. Out from the side of her left shoulder, little bits of a sleeved tattoo emerged. "I was brought into our kitchen one night by my _parents_ ," There was a hint of disdain in his voice, almost too small for Abigail to catch onto. "They threw me to the ground, and they beat me. I experienced so much pain to the point where I thought I couldn't take anymore. But you know, I could and I did."

Abigail could only feel bad for the child in that moment. She had dealt with youth in her first official position in the Broadford area and beyond. Many were troubled youth, abused at home. She did not feel sorrow for the man in front of her though. Abby told herself over and over to keep her head in this, and not her heart. That was what he was wanted.

John gripped at her hips and Abby tilted her head to the right, refusing to make eye contact with the man who was feeling her up. His hand forced her head right at him, John refused to let her ignore him. Not when she was this _close._ He retrieved his tattoo gun, assembled and tested it, placing it beside her.

"Something broke in me that night. I didn't cry from that moment, I laughed. I said _yes._ My entire life, I've -"

Over by Hudson, the door swung open, and a rather large and armed peggie came in, much to the anger of John.

"What is it?" He snapped, turning to face the peggie. Abby breathed out, relieved.

"There's a call for you on the radio coms from Father. Says he needs to speak with you."

John slowed his breathing, just like the book told him to. He looked down at Abigail, who did not move an inch. John turned back and patted the peggie's shoulder, smiling.

"Thank you, brother. I'll come speak to him in a moment. Let me finish up here, and I'll follow you."

Abigail counted up in her head as he pressed his forehead to hers, as she tried to pull away.

"I'll be back, my dearest. You aren't ready to face Father yet, for you must confess and atone."

The kiss on her cheek made her gag underneath the tapped portion of her mouth and for a moment, she was thankful it covered her frown. John left the room, with the peggie standing guard outside. He had closed the door behind himself and then, it was just them. The Constable and the Deputy, together again.

There was no way she could take down the peggie outside with the way her body was. She was low on energy and hadn't eaten since she had left Nick's place. She knew how to defend herself but with nothing to fuel her with it would be hard. She needed to focus on Hudson.

Though difficult, Abigail lifted her tied legs so that they were as almost as high as the chair's armrests. Struggling through a leg cramp, she fingered into her boot until feeling the cold metal surface of the switchblade. Using two fingers, she carefully removed the blade and her legs gave out, clumping to the ground. Abby held her breath, her eyes on the door, praying that he hadn't heard her.

The peggie hadn't. Abby breathed out and begun cutting the tape slowly, trying to avoid nicking herself. Once that arm was free, she ripped the other off and cut through her leg binds, then is one go, she ripped the tape off her mouth, which felt like a really bad wax job. Hudson stared at her in awe as she rushed over to her.

Recognising the idea that if she was found out, they would try and take her out. John wanted her, but not Hudson. Hudson could get out. She was resourceful.

" _Shhh!"_ Abby whispered, trying to lessen her qualms by working fast. She knew that if John _were_ to carve onto Hudson, he would go for her torso, if not the upper chest. He was obsessed with people showing their sins. Abby opened Hudson's jeans and slid the knife into her underwear, over the sound of her trying to talk. "Stop, _stop Joey! I'm sorry but I have to!"_

Form outside, Abigail heard hushed voices. She breathed in to control her shaking hands and leaned into Hudson, who looked like she wanted to talk. There was no time.

" _Fucking hell….._ Alright, Hudson. Use the knife to get yourself out. They're here for me, I just _fucking_ know it, so you should be alright. When you get out, make your way to Fall's End. Ask for Jerome or Mary. Anyone of them will help you. Ok, you got me?"

Hudson nodded feverishly and their conversation ended just in time. The door swung open, and the two women shot their heads over at it, terrified. The peggie spotted Abby bending down to the Deputy and aimed the rifle right at her face. Abby stood up slowly, her hands in the air. The peggie forced her into the corner of the room, still aiming the gun at her. After the longest minute of standing and waiting anxiously, John entered the room, slightly confused. He looked to the peggie and then Abigail.

"Wow…" He shook his head in disbelief, amazed at her tenacity. "I really can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"

John stepped behind Hudson and turned the chair to face her.

"Strip."

"E-excuse me?" Abby stuttered.

"Take off your clothes and remove any weapons that you have on you," John stroked Hudson's cheek. "Or Deputy Hudson will get into trouble."

Uneven on her feet and caught between outright attacking everyone and her dignity, Abby spoke before she thought, saying: "Fine, alright."

She needed to lull them into a sense of power, where John felt like he was in charge. Hudson wouldn't get hurt. Dutch's coat and the torn turtleneck slipped to the floor. Abby untied her boots and stripped off her pants. Then, when she was done to her underwear, she said: "See, no weapons."

John was in a world of his own. It should have been an intimate moment for the two of them, and only them. She shrugged her jacket off without a care, letting it fall to the ground. As each garment was removed, the more John saw her scars. And they were ugly. Healed lines hid underneath tattooed sleeves that clasped around her arms. More scars were on her inner thighs, the word ' _u_ _seless'_ carved into the left, written upside down. Abigail still had her hands up, refusing to break her gaze.

John nodded in agreement, gesturing to her chair. "Have a seat; Jordon, please take Deputy Hudson back to her cell for reflection."

Hudson screamed as the man wheeled her out, her screams dissipating the further she got from them. Silently, Abby sent Hudson a _good luck_ message.

John patted the chair again, "Come on, sit down already! Nothing bad is going to happen, I _promise._ "

Abigail doubted that severely but compliantly sat down, the cold leather of the seat sticking to her legs and back. John apologised while re-tapping her to the chair and Abigail said nothing and just stared.

John pulled up a spare chair from beside the closet and placed it right in front of Abby, close enough so that their knees touched. He had one hand on her knee, and said wistfully, "You know who I am, right?"

She stared at the hand, his grip tightening ever so slightly, and then at John who waited. Abby nodded: "I do."

"And you know why you're here?"

Abigail didn't answer. She didn't want to think that a complete psycho had the hots for her. John, it all his wanting, shook her shoulders, feeling circular marks underneath her tattoos.

"It's okay, I wouldn't expect you to immediately fall for someone you don't even know. "He told her, admitting the fact to himself. "I imagine that you're also homesick, being in a foreign country and all, not knowing when you'll go back. I need you to believe me when I say you needn't worry. Your family is here with me."

"But you aren't ready, not when you've been brainwashed to think the way you do. I know you can't see how things _actually are_ but I can help you through my will." John held her hands in his, shaking them. "And when you can see, you'll be ready for baptising. I will usher you in as my own flesh, forever."

Abigail wanted to vomit. She wanted to run, she wanted to scrub herself down from every filthy thought.

"And I can't help you if you can't try to help yourself." And when she didn't reply, he leaned in closer, almost moving to sit on her lap. " I _understand_. I can tell that you've never let God's love into your soul, have you? I used to be like you, walking on this earth with no purpose, no…." John's thumb traced the scars on her thighs. "No passion for life. I was blind to love, to faith." He pointed to the scar on his chest, _sloth._ "I couldn't see it until Father helped me. He showed me just how selfish I was with my emotions. Always receiving, always taking."

John leaned back, still smiling. "The best gift I could ever give is to give to others, releasing my courage for everyone to see. Courage, that is strength. Abigail, I know this seems abysmal. But I'm giving you my strength, I'll help carry the burden. We're one side of the same coin." He pointed to his chest again. His voice became sultry. "You will tell me of your sins from your life Abigail, after which we can take the next step towards atonement."

To gain ground, she had to give an inch. It had taken her this long to realise that she was in _destination fucked_ and that being silent or being a smart ass won't earn enough high ground to leverage. The screwdriver that was pointed to her stomach also quickened her decision.

"I don't know how" She admitted. "I've never stepped inside a church or told _anyone_ of my problems. Where would I start?"

John ate up her honesty, believing that things were finally starting to shape. "I see your scars, my love. Take me back to your childhood. I don't want to miss anything."

 _Give a little, gain a little_ she told herself.

"I'm an only child. I lived out on a cattle ranch with my Daddy, just outside of where the Helen Springs is now. I can't remember much of my Mum. He never talked about her and I didn't want to ask him in case he wanted to bash me." Abby breathed in. As much as it hurt to remember (these were things she had dug a deep hole for years ago) it needed to be real. "He wasn't a good person. He wasted his money gambling and never finished drinking a bottle before he started a new one. I liked to think that he was trying to cope with my Mum's death, but there have been many times where I've thought about it and gone between that and thinking that it was just an excuse."

"You're doing great," John whispered, stroking her arm. "What happened? What made you cut?"

"Things changed when I tried to be braver. I was thirteen when I tried to hit him back. Shit load of nothing it did and he just whooped me with whatever he could grab his hands on at the time. Burned me with cigarettes. In about a year he had sold everything _but_ the house and was beginning to get letters saying that he needed to pay the mortgage. He would tell me that I was a useless cunt and that he was going to sell me off for more money."

"And I believed him," She told John, in the rawest yet sustained level of calm she could manage. "I got out of there and I ran away to Darwin, as stupid as that sounds. I hitched rides with whoever I could and I didn't care who it was. I just needed to get somewhere where nobody recognised me."

John nodded sympathetically. "How old were you?"

"Fifteen. I was a stupid fifteen year old who believed that I was useless and that all I'd amount to was nothing. I drank. I cut myself."

"You're not useless."

"I know _that."_ She said sarcastically, breaking out of the act. "I learned fast of how to act on the street as a homeless girl. It was no place for someone like me back then."

"And what changed?"

"I met someone," Abby spoke softly, peeking John's interest. She made no mention of any flame back home. It turned the switch on that led to the boiling pot of his anger.

"Nobody I loved, John. He was just a copper who took pity on me. He let me tell my story and when I was done, he left. It took them two weeks to come back to me to say that they had arrested my father on child abuse, money laundering, tax evasion. A whole list of shit."

"So you got your day in court?" John asked.

Abigail shook her head. "No, he offed himself in prison a couple of days before we were due to start. By then, I was nineteen. I got off the alcohol and I got myself better to prove to him that I wasn't what he said I was. That I was gonna stand in that box and let him have it. But the bastard did what he did and it almost crushed me. I was angry for a while and the same copper who had been there since the beginning visited a year after that to see how I was doing. Not that great, I'll be honest. But after talking, I set myself right again. I worked hard and I slowly made my way through several divisions before ending up on the ganglands squad. It's not as famed as it used to be back in the eighties, but it was my kind of job. I guess it was ironic then that the same cop who helped me turned out to be the superintendent of the group."

" _I see_." To Abby, it looked like John's mind was somewhere else completely. He leaned further back in his chair and rubbed his face as if he were holding himself back. His leg rubbed against hers as it tapped on the ground and she waited quietly. "And tell me, during through all of this, was there ever a time you thought of God?"

Abby trod lightly, picking her words. "It's hard to say because the word of God is everywhere and I never went to church or prayed, so I didn't know how it worked. In my head, I would try to understand. I thought God is good, right? If he was good, this kind of stuff wouldn't happen. I saw others gather strength from their religion, but I could never. So I thought, I'll put faith in myself and I will be strong so that I can be helpful and kind. And then at the end of it all, if God came to be real, I would find peace knowing I did it on my own. And that whatever judgement came next I could face."

John nodded curtly, stood and thanked her, placing the chair back where he got it from. He turned to face her, smiling. His eyes, lustfully cold.

"Are you going to let me go now?" She asked.

He smiled. "No my love. Your atonement starts now."

* * *

In the cool morning air, Hudson walked out of the bunker in the clothes of a female peggie, who nod laid in her place in the cell. She dipped her head low and kept walking forward, ignoring the looks she was given. Freedom never tasted as good as it had today and she made her way to Fall's End, to safety.

* * *

 _Hey again!_

 _Each time I write these, they tend to get longer and longer. Anyway, I'll see you in the next one. As always, I thoroughly enjoy all the feedback you've given me so far._

 _HH xx._


	6. Health

There was nothing like coming home to the smell of freshly baked bread after a morning of confessing. The plans for today was for his to work through the morning and come home for lunch, to where he would meet up with Joseph for their biweekly meetings. This usually concerned gaining land and food/ammunition storages.

He could see Abby at the open kitchen window, washing up the past day's dishes. It looked like she was in a rigorous conversation with someone sitting behind her. John had hopped out of the truck, slamming the door loudly and Abby's head popped up. She smiled sweetly, waving back to him, soap suds sliding down her elbow.

Once inside, John found that it was, surprisingly, Jacob who had arrived first. Jacob had always been a punctual person, a habit that he had brought along with him from the days of the armed forces. With arms crossed, he was leaning back on one of the kitchen chairs. Abby turned, unplugging the kitchen sink. As the water was squealing down the hole, Abby came on over and gave him a bear hug. "John, you're home!"

He lightly hugged her back, thinking that he hugs were like Jacob's when he had been younger. Scrawnier. "What's for lunch?

"Well, I thought since Faith brought us that lovely pork belly the other day, we would have some roast sanger -" she stopped herself. "Whoops! I meant _sandwiches_. There should be some iced tea left over from last night as well that we can have."

Jacob tipped his glass at John. "Abby here has promised that next time there will be some peach cobbler."

"I'm always happy to make others happy, Jacob," Abby replied, clasping her hands together, a curled smile on her face. "You only have to ask, or bring along some bribes. That way you're positioned higher up on the Seed food chain. Sorry, Faith's winning at the mo."

Jacob laughed into his cup and John went to sit down at the table. Abby tapped him on the shoulder and then handed him a cup of his own.

"So how are the supply trucks? Do you think that will cover the compound" John inquired, and Jacob sat forward, _properly_ in his chair. Outside, they could hear Faith greet Abby with hugs; it turned out that she was quite the hugger. There wasn't anybody she turned away.

"We've been having problems with some rogues intercepting the trucks and executing the transport agents. " Jacob sniffed and finished off his glass, pouring himself another juice. John reached out for an empty cup, and Jacob filled it halfway, to which John slipped in a small, green pill. It faded in a flurry of bubbles. "But mostly, the supply trucks are being blown up. It shouldn't be too much trouble, but something to nip in the bud while it's still small."

"They've been targeting some of the silos in the valley as well. I've just about had it with the Rye clan."

The girls walked into the kitchen, with Joseph following behind them. He was looking smart today but Abby must have asked for him to remove his glasses inside the house. She had her ways and in many ways had mentally remained the same, despite changing so much in the past couple of months. John was happy with that small outcome.

"John, darling, Faith just keeps bringing some prezzies over. Some lovely melons, I'm sure we can have them alongside the sandwiches as well." Faith and Joseph sat down at their respective seats as Abigail placed the melons into the sink, turning the tap on. Abby looked over her shoulder at Jacob. "Hey Jacob, would it be alright if I took out a cup of water to the man sitting in your ute? It is rather hot today…."

Jacob waved away her concerns. "Don't go being a worry wart 'bout 'im, Abby."

"Jacob takes care of his men." John reinstated, tugging on the ends of her looked back at the ute in the yard and John tugged at her dress again and passed the glass over to her. He imagined her drowning in the Bliss river. He imagined force feeding her as she was tied to the chair, bleeding. With a smile and a kiss on the cheek, he said: "Drink up."

* * *

Sleeping was always something that never came naturally, or at least easily to Abigail. The windows were open that night, seeing as they were going through a heat wave. John liked to hug in his sleep and have at least one arm reaching out to her, upset when he would find an empty space. It was a large and normally quiet house, patrolled by people Abigail didn't know very well. She asked once about them and John told her that they were bodyguards as he didn't want her hurt or the compound attacked by the local gangs. He told her not to worry, so she didn't.

At night was when her mind worked the best. She had all sorts of ideas on how to make the compound look better and all sorts of stuff. After all, it was up to her to look after the home. It was definitely a change from what she had come from to what she arrived at. They met in Australia, while he was on a business trip to Melbourne. They connected over their lives and very quickly progressed. She left her life in Melbourne to begin anew in Montana. They had only been married for almost half a year now.

Abigail decided to get up, instead of being useless and lying in bed. She pecked John lightly on the cheek, who cutely snuggled deeper into his pillow, and receded out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the ground level of their ranch.

Her feet felt cold as they quietly padded across the floor, towards the kitchen. She didn't want to wake anyone up, even though it was just the two of them in the main house. The guards would be patrolling outside.

As Abby poured a glass full of filtered water from the fridge, she did a double-take to the window, towards the rubbish bins. In the haze of an outside light, Abigail focused her vision on the shadow of a dog sitting in the light. It wasn't doing _anything_ , really. But something felt _off._

" _Hey, you."_

Abigail jumped, the glass almost slipping through her fingers. John's voice made her spill water on the floor.

" _Shit,"_ She whispered, placing the jug and the cup on the counter to wipe the spill up. " _Hey."_

He started pouring himself a glass. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I wasn't feeling too well and I couldn't sleep." Abigail chucked the soiled towel in the sink. He took her hand and kissed her on the forehead.

"It's probably the seasonal flu, nothing to worry about. Let's go back to bed my love, I'll make you feel better."

And as he led her out of the kitchen, her vision remained on the window.

* * *

All of the beds in the medical bay were full from the last hijacking attempt. It had been a dejected success because while they were able to stop the load from reaching its destination, all of the contents had been burned as a cause of a launcher that had been used by a stray peggie. The explosion had killed two of the scouts and injured several others. Most non-life threatening, but with the rise in Bliss poisonings, the beds were in dire need.

Whitehouse was able to keep their base - the County's Jail - alive for the resistance's use. From what supplies had originally been here after the initial raids would last them for about another month more, but with even that level of supplies, they would need more. People out there were fighting the war themselves, and many of them had heard of the initial invasion and uprising against Eden's Gate. This spurned many of them to join forces and so far, it had been a good number.

Today was a down sort of day. Not mentally, but mostly this was a day to spend inside to go over strategies, plans and further advances into the territories of Jacob, without trying to alert the other siblings of their base. The walls hadn't been breached just yet, so there was still hope.

"Alright," Whitehouse sat down on the desk in Vigil's small office, packed with people. "Let's get straight to business. Hudson, you've been out patrolling the routes. What do you reckon our chances are of attacking the bridges?"

"And risk cutting off our way out of the valley?" Hudson scoffed. "Through the mountains is the best bet, but we have to get through Jacob's army."

Tracey bit the inside of her cheek. "Them fucking shitheads have got the roads clenched tighter than a straight guy's asshole."

Cue Vigil's disgust. Whitehouse nodded in agreement. "We can't wait for too long to let our advantage go cold. Rumour has it that Jacob's party is camping near the Lansdown airstrip. I don't know if any of the planes will be able to get over the mountains, but if we take out the supply routes, living would become more difficult for the cult."

"And for the people living there." Tracey quipped.

It was a hard decision. The Sheriff didn't want anybody to get hurt but nobody went into this situation knowing what would befall them.

"Vigil, contact Dutch. I want a direct line to the Whitetail Militia. This starts now."

* * *

It was too hot to lie in bed with John. He acted like a hot water bottle: good when it was cold, bad if it was anywhere above normal. Once again, Abigail slipped out from under the bedsheets and walked down to the kitchen, feeling a pit of doubt in her stomach.

She could see the dog through the curtains. The longer she looked at the dog, the longer she questioned her sanity. _He,_ she decided, sat there and waited patiently, as if he _knew_ her. She wanted to go out there and see if what her mind was making up was true but she didn't dare. The small glowing boxes above all the doors and all the windows made sure that John would be tipped off if anyone at all opened them. Abby was sure he was recording the inside of the house too.

Abby closed the bathroom door after her and sat on the toilet, the bile simmering in the back of her throat. She found it ironic that everyone called it morning sickness rather than, every fucking waking moment sickness. She aligned it with the supposed pregnancy glow, but she was only two months in, she didn't know.

John had urged her to visit the clinic for a few days now. She had suspected the pregnancy when she hadn't felt any cramps in a while nor seen any blood. The clinic worker had confirmed it, happily and asked if she could make the call straight away to the blessed brother John to send him the good news.

She declined, stating that she would tell him when she arrived home and that the worker must keep it a secret for now. That was on a whim but for the past week things that seemed blissful faded to a muddy brown. She noticed the little things. The gaps in her memories. The little specks of blood in John's laundry clothes. The flinching of the man dubbed 'Peaches' by Jacob, if that was even his own name.

No, this would be kept to herself for now. Maybe she was going crazy. Stupid hormones.

* * *

They hadn't noticed the flames coming from the armoury at first, but with the sounds of explosions and the darkening of rising smoke coming from that direction, it was a sight that couldn't be ignored. At first, Hudson thought the sight had been bombed but when she looked up, there were no planes in the sky.

A small party from the jail had snuck their way into the mountains and had met up with the Militia. They were hesitant, understandably, and the group needed to scratch their back before they scratched theirs. It had been days of clearing compounds before they had reached the airstrip and about half of a day was spent replenishing their packs and resting. One of the scouts had indicated the growing flames coming from the direction of what the Militia identified as the armoury, Jacob's _bunker._

They all scrambled over, imagining that the people in there had been killed. But imagine every single person's surprise from the jail and those in the Militia to find one, slightly singed and bloodied Deputy Pratt sitting outside with a bunch of survivors supporting each other. He quietly smoked a cigarette and jumped in surprise when Hudson called out his name.

An air of calm washed over him and they spared hugs all around. He had genuinely thought that they had been killed, or like Abigail had been captured by the cult. He didn't want to think of what they put her through but it gave him chills when he remembered staring at her through the window to a face that did not recognise him.

"Where's Jacob?" She asked, holding his shoulders.

His eyes were miles away and then, as if he realised that he was late for a meeting, he jumped out of his world and repeated the question to himself. He sighed and smiled off into the distance.

"Dead as a doornail. Slit throat and all."

* * *

 _Hey everyone,_

 _My apologies for the delay in uploading. My laptop's battery suddenly decided that it wouldn't work any more and I needed to order a new one (which will take a few days more because of the public holiday.) I am super happy at everyone's responces, especially the Australians. :)_

 _Anyway, please enjoy._

 _Cheers,_

 _HH xx_


	7. Hold

The room in the back of the infirmary felt small, dingy and that was just the way Pratt liked it. Staci liked the closeness as it felt like his mother's old home and it kept the heat in. All he needed was some quiet in the tense days that had past. He spent moments upon others staring into the bundle of warmth that was his cup of poorly made coffee. Beggars couldn't be choosers and he was happy nonetheless to have something palatable and not squishy or cold.

He couldn't sleep properly anymore, not that that was surprising to really anyone. He felt as if he had reverted back to his child identity when he hugged his pillow, imagining it as if it were the blue bear that sat in his old room at the family home. He would be scared of the shadows on the wall, not ever sleeping in complete darkness. It was when he was alone that he felt most vulnerable. But the chatter he could hear through the walls and the soft humming of the overhead lights brought some comfort. Like momma said, _one day at a time._

He counted for each shit thing in his life and swapped it for a good one. He had been tortured. But he gained the guts to fight for himself. They were stuck in a shithole. But he wasn't alone. His tormentor made him shave his face. But now he knew where to cut to kill someone.

"What?" He asked, lifting his head to see that Hudson had been trying to talk to him for the past couple of minutes. Prat shifted over in his seat, making room. Hudson pulled a chair over from outside of the back room and sat down next to him, taking in the silence. This was meant to be Dr Lindsey's office, but because of the volume of people that were coming in, he decided to move is the office so that there was more room for equipment and supplies at his fingertips. Now, the room was like a staff-room, filled with preserved and packaged food that they pinched from stashes and bunkers.

"We missed you at dinner," She commented, pouring herself a cup. He watched the steam rise. "Have you been eating alright?"

"I eat what I can," Pratt admitted. "Mainly soup because it's hot and the texture doesn't send me into an absence." He flinched, thinking about the sound of lips smacking. "One day at a time."

Hudson nodded. "I understand. I can't eat a lot at once, or I'll upset my stomach. I can't see red things without thinking of all the blood I've seen."

Pratt pondered on what he had seen with his time spent. It wasn't anything clear and concise; nothing was when came to that family. It was muddled, his memories. But that's what they did. They reprogrammed and moulded their spartans.

Hudson had taken to smoking again. When he had been a fresher in the police academy, he first met her. She, at first, didn't like him. Thought he was a spineless person but that wasn't true. He wanted to do what he could for his community and the way he saw it, being an officer was how to go about it. Their stances had changed over the years and through it all, they had been platonically close. He appreciated not being alone, not wanting to think what he would have become if everyone had died.

He asked her, in a small, raspy note; "Where is everyone?"

"I don't have much memory of what happened when the helicopter crashed, but I'll fill you in on what I do know." Hudson sniffed, stubbing the end of the cigarette out. Reluctantly. "From what I can tell, Burke - the marshall, he's lost in the Bliss. We couldn't find tracks of him but we know he got out when the helicopter went up in flames, alongside Abigail. They didn't knock me out at first like they had with you, so I knew old man Whitehorse had managed to sneak his way out. Though, by lucky, some of the survivalists had found him before the peggies could."

She rubbed her face. "We lost contact with Clearwater. She was a powerhouse and managed to free up a lot of wiggle room in the valley. But she got caught and the last I heard was her….." Hudson's voice stopped as she stared at the wall. Pratt felt it too, the absense. The feeling of remembering it all. "...her _screams._ I think maybe John thought she was a risk. We haven't heard anything on the radios or camera feeds."

Hudson closed her eyes in pain. "I can't stop….. _seeing_ her escape from the chair, like a contortionist. I thought she was crazy, trying to escape. But somehow….she managed to smuggle a knife in and get it to me. I…" Hudson held Pratt's hand, the tears in her eyes streaking down dirtied cheeks. "...don't know. If she's dead or if she's alive and still in that fucking bunker being tortured. I don't know."

 _Clearwater._ Pratt worked through his memory, blinking at Hudson breaking down.

"She's alive."

" _Wh-what?"_

"I've seen her," Pratt affirmed and Hudson squeezed his hand so hard that he flinched. The disbelief on her face was frozen. " _It's true!_ I promise I would never ever joke about it."

"What, _Where?"_ She urged, the pitch of her voice echoing loudly.

"She's at John's ranch. I, well, I never actually got to talk to her, but she's there."

"Oh _god."_ Hudson griminced. "He's not..you know, _using_ her or anything?"

"I don't know. Look, from what I could see on my trips to the valley with... _Jacob,"_ Pratt gulped own his panic. "She's not all up there." He tapped his temple. "They must have gotten to her; I tried getting her attention in so many ways, and not one time did she respond like she knew me. John's got her locked down at that ranch, doing god knows what. I don't think they abuse her now, but….."

"You can _never tell._ " Hudson finished, finishing the last sip of her coffee. She placed the cup in the sink and looked back at Pratt. "We need to inform the others."

The sound of smashing crockery jolted her awake.

* * *

At first, Abby thought that maybe John had knocked over the washing rack. He was sometimes clumsy so it wouldn't have been out of the question. But over that, Abigail heard the strew of vulgar cusses and her blood turned cold.

Was there a break in? Was there somebody hurting him? Abigail skidded out the door and thumped down the stairs, calling his name until she found him in the kitchen, surrounded by the massacre that remained of their fine china set.

John was breathing deeply, his fists clenching and unclenching. He had his back turned to her but she could see in the way his shoulders crumpled that something was wrong. She supposed lunch wouldn't happen today, given the state of the kitchen.

" _John?"_ She whispered and he jumped, clutching his heart as if she scared him. Like, actually _scared him._ "What's the matter?"

He looked broken. There were no other words to describe her lover other than broken. His cheeks were red and his eyes almost matched the colour of his cheeks; he had been crying. His breathing was less rapid and was now controlled.

"Oh.." He looked at the mess on the ground and sighed in disappointment. "Oh shit Abby…."

Abby closed the space between them, careful not to cut her feet on the shards scattered on the ground. "It's okay, they're just plates. We can get new ones."

"I'm sorry," John whispered to her, his body weight leaning on her for support. He snaked her into a tight hug and she heard a small sob out from under his breath. "I'm tired."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Abby asked. She took his hand in hers. "Let's go upstairs."

John had no fight in him to argue with her. In truth, he wanted to smash everything he could and go shoot his guns into the fucking heathens. But he couldn't say no to her, not when she was lovingly taking care of him, worrying about him. He was selfish, a sin he had to deal with daily. He loved her attention and the ways she filtered into everybody's lives.

She was in one of John's oversized t-shirts, her underwear peeking out of the bottom. He wanted every bit of her to himself and he was happy to report, she was. She was too loyal now to do anything but love him.

Abby closed the door behind them and John slouched on the bed, kicking his shoes off. She climbed on the bed and hugged him from behind while he took his socks off. Her nose was in the crook of his neck. There were few times when people actually comforted him. They both melded into each other and John found himself lying on her, his head on her chest. She never said anything, except to say: "Just tell me when you're ready."

 _Jacob._

At that moment, he remembered his eldest brother fondly. Abigail unknowingly stroked his head in the same way that Jacob used to comfort him after a night of drunken beatings. He had loved Jacob and often saw him as a father figure in that portion of his life. Jacob and Joseph had taken the brunt of the beatings, with Joseph's domineering personality deflecting onto him. They all had been abused.

"Jacob's dead."

All the air in her lungs was sucked out in a moment of shock; the burly mountain man, _dead._ Abigail could hardly believe it, would have thought that he was joking had he not burst in a fit of rage in the kitchen. She didn't want to ask how; inside, there was an inkling of suspicion. She knew, after the past months that they were not good people. But she had conflicted feelings and was almost happy to stay in a world of blissful ignorance had she not found the bottle of unnamed pills hidden from her. They had been in his coat pocket.

"Joseph wants a funeral for him," John continued, smelling her. "In two days, at the church."

Abby nodded and stopped stroking his head. He looked up at her and she smiled softly, not knowing what to say apart from: "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's not your fault my love, he was taken too soon."

The two of they lay on the bed for a while, just soaking in each others company. John must have gotten uneasy because he changed the conversation elsewhere, one where Abby couldn't lie through her teeth.

"Did you go to the doctors like I asked?" He had moved so that his head was leaning on his elbow and she wriggled around to lie facing him. Their legs intertwined, his toes playing with the sheets. Abby nodded. "Well, what did he say?"

Her voice had died in the back of her throat. She didn't want to have to tell him on an occasion such as his brother's passing. She took his hand and moved it over her stomach. Closing her eyes to focus, she tried to get the words out. "I..I'm.."

" _You're pregnant?"_ John whispered but in a forceful voice, as if going a notch higher would tear the room apart. His eyes were wide and sparkled blue, and he looked down at where his hand was. "It's true?"

"I didn't know how to tell you." It was all that she could say without lying.

Their silence was exchanged for John's delayed crying. She didn't know whether it was because of the pregnancy or because of everything that had happened. It would be an overload for anyone.

Through tears and an uneasy smile, John hugged her, carefully this time.

"This is truly a blessing." In her ear, he whispered sweet things and took in the moment, alive within his own bliss. He thought that this child was a gift, something from Jacob. It made him hope and it made him believe.

Abby smiled, kissed his forehead and in her own head she thought; _Shit._

* * *

The next day was spent as busy as she had been on the ranch, looking after the workshop and cleaning every nook and cranny while John stayed out, helping with the preparations for the funeral. He told her he wanted to wait until after the funeral to inform his family as he didn't want to overshine the day that was to be dedicated to his loving brother.

She chucked out two bags of broken china and waited for the promise that he would buy her better ones than before. Abby didn't need him telling her what had gone down at the armoury but her skills relied on picking up little tidbits that people dropped. The guards talked amongst themselves and when she wanted to, she could be a ghost.

As it had turned out, Jacob had been killed by Peaches while getting a shave. And then, hell blazed through the facility and that area had been taken over by the Whitetail Militia. The roads had been tightened and apparently, the Father's words had been that those who had caused this tragedy would be punished justly.

The whole scenario confused her. Peaches would have had to have his reasons for killing Jacob. It was all a secret from her.

"I love you," John said, giving her a parting kiss and hug. He had become more openly affectionate and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Her body loved his touch and she felt safe. He left at lunch to go to help at the church with writing the sermon and proceed with the baptisms that had been missed because of yesterday's breakdown.

She watched from the deck as he left in his four-wheeler. Once it got quiet, Abby returned to the chores for the day. The more she spent on her own without the pills, she learned, the more she became disillusioned.

* * *

Over the sound of a rumbling truck, Pratt confirmed to the watch team the departure of John Seed from the ranch, followed by several trucks containing various members of the congregation. There was a sizable amount of them still left at the ranch: from what they could gather, around twenty-five peggies.

Once they got the go-ahead, Pratt made his way around the back of the ranch, followed by Hudson. With one look, the nodded and crept to the back door, knowing the bulk of their men would be at the front of the house.

The game was on.

* * *

 _Hey everyone,_

 _Nothing much to say today other than I hope you still enjoy my stuff! :)_

 _Chur,_

 _HH xx._


	8. Contain

She loved the hymns that played on the radio. Nothing against the singers nowadays but there was something about the hum of a choir that made her happy. And she needed that happiness right now, with all the drama that had occurred in the past couple of days. John had gotten better at controlling his outbursts, though she suspected he was faking it. He made one too many trips to the basement's punching bag for her not to notice. She hadn't heard anything from Faith, but surprisingly she had from Joseph. He was a good man to come over when his brother needed him the most. Abby always felt like he had an unsettled air of confidence around him but it was comforting when John needed it.

Speaking of said husband, John had just left for Eden's gate in his beat-up truck. Maybe one day, if she could afford it, she would surprise him with a newer model. She left the warmth of the sun on the front porch and made a start on the chores she needed to get through before dinner. There wasn't a lot, just some time lengthy ones. The night before, John insisted that she take more care of herself so that their baby could be cared for properly. It was the type of comment that while she knew he meant well, she didn't pay any heed. Fitness never hurt anybody.

The shower needed to be cleaned, as well as a load of washing. John wouldn't want to cook anything tonight; to be honest, it was mainly her that cooked but he liked to do it sometimes, so it appeared that they would make do of the leftovers from lunch.

The roast was firmly packed away into Tupperware and stacked neatly into the fridge. As Abby closed the fridge door, she jumped in fright from the sound. But her nervous smile soured to the realisation that fridge doors don't go _bang._

Gunshots weren't unusual, it was a hunting area after all. People lived off the land around them, so it shouldn't have been a concern. But it was loud. Louder than it should have been. Sometimes she would watch John practice his shooting skills after dinner and after a while, the ratio of loudness to the distance of gunshots almost became calming. It only made much more sense when outside the kitchen window she saw one of the guards' collapse, and then almost straight after, another was shot. They fell onto the injured leg, jumping for safety behind one of the armoury boxes.

Flames licked the sky as she heard a thunderous explosion to her left and then she knew; the house was being attacked. John had said this might happen, though he said he'd protect her if something happened. Well….he wasn't here to. So now what?

* * *

The teams didn't have any official names, not that it mattered. They had to scrounge up those willing to help and as it turned out, those within the confines of the valley were more than willing to take out the major posts.

The signal had gone off too early. A sniper by the name of Grace had thought that one of their own had been spotted, and so in a logical move, she had shot to silence the man.

This was all relayed through the radio as Hudson and Pratt entered through the back door of the main house and into the dining area. From inside, they could hear the muffled sounds of gunfire and screams but inside it was quiet; apart from the sound of a Peggie radio spurtin' _Oh John._

Hudson's head snapped to the left, hearing the squeaking of floorboards. They definitely weren't hers nor Pratt's. Hudson nodded towards the closed door and Pratt nodded in confirmation, silently padding across the floor. Hudson stood before Pratt and opened the door in one foul swoop before Pratt entered first, handgun pointed to the air. The kitchen was a scene from his memory. Quiet, with streams of the sun passing through an open window, curtains swaying in the wind.

Staci felt nothing but pain radiating from his face as he stumbled back from being smashed with a ceramic cup. Very quickly, a strong force grabbed his gun hand and pushed him into the cupboards. The doors broke from under his weight. Hudson lunged at the figure, jumping onto their back.

Hudson didn't recognise that it was her friend at first until the constable's hands grabbed at her arms and with all the might in her body, the women flew back forcefully into the counter. They wrestled, Pratt jumping up to cover Abby's face with a chloroformed cloth. It worked after a while and the woman collapsed in Hudson's arms.

They hadn't been sure as to what state they would find her in. All reports that they could gather from those inside the valley indicated that the majority of the security forces were held at the ranch. It seemed like killing two birds with one stone, take out a large portion of the peggies in this area and taking the land back, as well as finding further leads to find the constable. Rather luckily, they didn't need to look further.

Joey swore while holding her friend, eyeballing her back. "Holy shit Pratt, look at this fucking shit." Hudson pointed to her back, which was now revealed thanks to the dress being ripped. "The fucker marked her."

It was like somebody had gone over her back with a shredder. She had been written on, slurs and sins alike and crossed out like a scribbled out sentence. The words were red and puffy. Hudson's mind wandered on what had gone on while she had been taken away, back in the bunker. She half expected to find Abby in the bunker but the woman had seemed so sure that it was her John was after and that Hudson would be okay.

Pratt clicked his back, picking back up his gun. "Are you alright? She fought tooth and nail just now." He wiped his face of blood, though it was apparent that his bloody nose wouldn't stop anytime soon. It would have to wait till they got back to base to be dealt with.

"I'll be fine," Hudson said. "Here, help me tie her up."

The effects of being under the bliss were varied but the main consensus was that their minds weren't in control anymore. The option of choice became more susceptible and Abby's state of mind was still questionable. The pair couldn't take any chances and ties her hands and wrists and blindfolded her with ripped cloth from the kitchen table. She was lighter than Pratt had imagined.

"Cover me," He told Hudson as he hoisted Abby over his shoulder, her arms dangling in the wind.

Outside, chaos still reigned on the ranch. As they exited through the front, from above the sound of fighter planes littered the air. Hudson kicked at flying bodies and shot at anyone who got too close. Behind her, Pratt tried his best to carry Abby gently while looking out for himself. He wanted to talk to her when they got back but like his face, that could wait too.

Pratt's nerves got to him when he dropped Abby in the back of the truck, while Hudson was at the front, driving as her life depended on it, because it literally did. He had developed a nervous tick, flinching every now and then from the sounds around them. Once Hudson floored it through the iron gates, Pratt quickly grabbed onto Abby, who was sliding unconsciously and in time with the potholes in the road. The two of them lay as smoke arose from the ranch in the distance. He often ignored going to church, only going when Christmas mass came around but right then, he prayed for safety and prayed for the strength to see this through.

* * *

Abigail woke up with a headache comparable to being smacked in the head with a baseball bat. Not that that had ever happened, (it had been a baton), but it made her wake up and realise that home wasn't that anymore. She guessed it hadn't been for a while, ever since the rose-tinted, non-existent glasses had been chucked away. The faded reality of everything being just right had been just off in every sense. She just didn't know how to fill in the blanks.

And home wasn't here either, the room where she woke up. Every sound made her ears ring, right down to the dripping of water through the cell's faucet. She was in a cell and she was alone, all alone. The thought terrified her. She didn't know _why_ it terrified her so, but the cold and the loneliness really got to her. How long had it been? Was the baby still there?

Abby remained curled up in the bed, letting time pass and slowly, the headache settled to a mild hum. Her right arm snaked protectively around her stomach, the blanket that she had found tucked all the way to her nose; she hated breathing in warm air. She closed her eyes and waited for whatever was going to happen next.

The sound of the door in the hallway made her jump awake and hushed voices moved closer. How long had she been asleep?

She noticed the guns at first and eyeballed them, before staring at the man who had come in without one. He looked like a doctor from one of the _House MD_ episodes. He brought in a cart of stuff with him and Abby didn't want to think what was in there. The other was the woman and the man from before, the ones who were in the kitchen. She remembered Peaches, though in all honesty, she couldn't remember his face _that_ well.

"My name is Charles," The man said, pointing to himself. "I'm a doctor. Nod if you understand, please."

"I'm not dumb," She remarked from under the blanket. The last thing she wanted was visitors with a headache like this. Abby sat up, awash with the sense of bile brewing. "What d'you want?"

Charles was short and straight. "We need to do a health check-up."

Her breathing hitched, jaw clenched. 'Fuck off you will."

The man named Peaches leaned forward, as if he was about to say something but Abigail had cut him off, her temper flaring.

"I don't know any of you!" She pointed at Charles. "I don't know you and I don't trust you. Like hell I'm going to let you do a check-up when I feel like shit! You can take your equipment and shove it!"

The woman looked shocked, her gun dipped to the ground. Peaches was frowning and Charles looked as if he didn't want to be here anymore. Abigail couldn't blame him; their first impression wasn't great, or even good. Abby groaned with another wave of sickness, her head becoming dizzy, amplifying the headache that had _just settled._

"I need the bathroom…." She whimpered, before chucking the contents of her lunch on the shoes of the doctor. Abby moaned through an apology, accepting the paper towel that Peaches had given to her. She couldn't look him in the eyes.

Charles grimaced, trying to step out of the vomit, quietly whispering a: " _Gross_."

"Sorry," She said again, trying to stand up but having to grab the railing of the bed to hold herself steady. "Damn Peaches, how much Chloroform did you use?! Fuck my head hurts."

He flinched.

"Why don't you sit down?" The woman said, gesturing back to the bed. "You really don't look well."

 _No, really?_ Abby thought, _I just puked out my guts and don't look amazing? Shocking._

The room's awkwardness went away with the clean up of her vomit. She couldn't help but feel really bad about it - even if these people did kidnap her. She heard the whispers from outside from passing people. She was sure this was a jail of some sorts or a camp. They were against the family, she was sure of it. But these people didn't look blood hungry heathens. This day had been the longest.

As Abby sat back down, once Charles had left to wash the vomit off his shoes, she said to Peaches: "I'm sorry for yelling, it's been hard going cold turkey."

"From...the Bliss?" The woman asked, not too sure what to make of her statement.

"I don't know what it was, or what was going on a lot of the time at the ranch." She said honestly. She was picking at her nail, one which hadn't broken in the fight. Her knees were tired. "I think he has been drugging me. They've been gaslighting me like fuck knows how many times."

Peaches frowned further. "You sure?" He said, pulling a chair to sit down in. "Do you remember anything else?"

"I don't know...I just.." Abigail's sigh filled the room. Her hands cupped her face in comfort. "I can't remember things and what I've been told feels wrong…."

"It's okay," The woman said, sitting down next to her on the bed. She should be fighting but there's something nice about it. Her body knows these people. "You're out now."

She didn't want to feel their sympathy. She wanted to go home.

"I'll do the check-up." She said to her hands, which were clasped in her lap. Her back was hunched with worry.

There was no going back, surely. Not unharmed, at least.

* * *

 _So this story hasn't been abandoned, don't worry, I am just extremely busy now that we are (finally) picking up work. Went through the past several chapters and made some edits for mistakes, but probably missed a couple. Also had to slow down and think about where this story is heading and what needs to happen to get there, so I'm planning to upload 1 - 2 a week now._

 _Another hobby is covering mysteries from my country, so a little bit of my time is going into searching - rather boringly tbh - through microfilms the old fashioned way, since they aren't on the net. Love your faces._

 _Cheers,_

 _HHxx_


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